


All our Woe

by Corycides



Series: 100 Fics in 100 Days [37]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Uncle/Niece Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 07:09:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corycides/pseuds/Corycides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie knows what she wants...even if it is forbidden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

No one called him General Matheson – it seemed like tempting fate, plus he'd punched the last person who tried – but everyone knew the truth. The rebels had idealism and dedication in spades, but Miles had actual military experience and tactical training. No one liked him, but everyone just sort of fell into line.

They weren't any more immune to the legend of Bogeyman Matheson than the militia were. He was the monster under the bed. He was good at killing things – and it was killing him.

Charlie rapped her knuckles against Miles door and took the grunt as an invite to let herself in. Miles was slouched in a battered chair in front of the fire, whiskey glass in one hand and reports in the other. He glanced up at her and away, dismissing her.

'I'm busy, Charlie,' he said. 'Whatever it is, it can wait till tomorrow.'

'Yes, sir,' she said, sketching a sarcastic salute. 'Would you like your three bags full, or empty?'

It made him scowl at her, but at least he was paying attention to the fact she was in the room. She didn't give him a chance to say anything, propping her hands on her hips.

''You missed dinner, again.'

'I ate it in here.' He waved a hand at a tray on the bed. The remains of a half-eaten sandwich lay curled on the plate.

'How much of it was actual food,' Charlie asked, 'and how much was whiskey?'

Miles flexed his hand around the tumbler, corner of his mouth twitching in a humourless smirk. He stared at her coldly as he lifted the glass and drained it, licking the last drops off his lips. 'Enough.' He stood up and grabbed her arm, walking her towards back to the door. 'I appreciate the thought, but I don't need a babysitter.'

He yanked the door open, ready to bundle her out into the hall. A year's worth of plans and scenarios fell away, and it was now or never. Charlie stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, mouth moving against his. His lips were cold and a patina of whiskey made her tongue tingle. 

Behind her back the door clicked shut again and the hot wire of tension running through her shoulders relaxed. She'd won. Or she would win. 

Miles stepped back, almost staggered.. Now he was looking at her.

'Charlie,' he said. 'What are you doing.'

'Kissing you,' she said, mock-patiently. 'If you can't tell, it must have been a long time.'

The key, she decided, was just to go for it. Be upfront. She pulled her t-shirt over her head, her thick hair tumbling around her face, and dropped it to the floor. Miles stared for a second, then closed his eyes. His throat worked as she swallowed hard.

'Get out.' 

'No,' Charlie said. Since his eyes were closed she took the opportunity to gracelessly yank off her boots, balancing on first one foot and then the other. 'Not until you hear me out.'

She stepped in close, unbuttoning his shirt with urgent fingers. He was lean, all wiry muscle and scraped down flesh, and bumped with old scar tissue. It wasn't what he'd looked like her in her fantasies. There he'd been as defined as Jason, all tan skin and ridged muscle. It didn't matter though. He was Miles and that was what she wanted, her fantasies obligingly editing themselves to fit. Charlie traced a spider-web blot on his hip with her thumb and felt him shudder. His hands found her shoulders, thumbs flexing against her collarbones.

'Charlie,' he said. 'You're my niece.'

'I don't care,' she said. 'I want you, Miles.

He licked his lips and shook his head. 'No, you don't. Charlie, this isn't you.'

She snorted. 'Like you know me that well?'

'I do,' he said, finally opening his eyes. 'Whatever this is about, Charlie, it's not a good idea.'

'I don't care.' Charlie repeated. 

She kissed his chest, lips lingering on warm skin, and down to the flat bud of his nipple. She scraped her teeth over it, heat cramping between her legs at getting to touch him like this. 

Miles hands slid down her arms, fingers scraping the soft flesh. 'You're a kid.'

'I'm 22. I know what I want,' Charlie said, lifting her head to meet his eyes. Her hands settled over his lean hips, tugging him closer. 'You think I've haven't thought this though? Haven't run the variables?'

It was one of his favourite phrases when trying to drill tactics into the rebels head. Despite the situation – or maybe it was because of it – his mouth twitched in a smile at having it used against him. Still, he wouldn't be Miles Matheson if he gave up this easily.

'You just think you have,' he said. 'Jesus, Charlie, what would your mom say?'

'I don't know,' Charlie said. 'Maybe, “Wow, I guess being abandoned as a ten year old to take care of your little brother, has consequences? Who'd have thought it.”? Or maybe, “Well, I guess breaking the world changes the social norms?”. Something like that. Thing is, I don't care. I can keep saying that all night.'

Since her hands were down there, and this was taking more talking than she'd hoped, Charlie started unbuckling Miles' belt. His hands tightened around her arms, digging in enough to leave a mark. And the fact she'd crawled deep enough in this rabbit hole that bruises sent tingling heat through her was one reason she'd decided to grab the bull by the horn tonight. Probably not what Miles intended though.

'You sure about that, Charlie?' he asked, voice low and rough. 'You sure you'll 'not care' when people are whispering behind your back, when they call you a whore or a victim to your face?'

She shrugged. 'Half the rebels think we are doing it already,' she pointed out. 'And we don't have to tell them they're right. I don't want a white wedding and scads of web-footed babies, Miles. Some of us are going to die, and if it is you or me? I want to have had this. You.'

'No, you don't,' Miles said. 'You just think you do.'

'What's the difference? I've thought I wanted from you that bar in Chicago, from the first time you saved me and the last time you trusted me to have your back.' 

That stumped him. Charlie unbuttoned his jeans and let go, the weight of denim dragging it down over his lean hips. He made a ragged noise and she hesitated, looking up at him.

'You want me to stop?' she asked, sliding her thumb under the waistband and tracing patterns on the soft, tight skin. 'Because that's the one thing you've not said, Miles. Tell me to stop it and get out. Tell me you don't want me.'

'What about Nora?' he said instead, staring at her. 'What about Jason.'

She shrugged. After all this time she was used to hiding the prick of jealousy at Nora's name. It helped sooth it that Nora was Miles last excuse, not the first that sprang to mind. 'Jason's not your problem. Tell Nora what you like. You've still not said you don't want me.'

Miles let go of her. Her skin felt cold where he'd been touching it and, for the first time, she felt a sinking feeling of doubt. If he threw her out now, she'd never be able to look at him again. She'd have ruined everything. 

Rough fingers twisted in her hair, pulling her head back. 'That's because I do,' he said, staring down at her with a desperate expression on his face. 'But I – WE – shouldn't. Ben trusted me to keep you safe.'

'And you have,' Charlie said, stroking his cheek. 'You saved Danny. You saved me – a 100 times over. Why do you think I love you?'

He made a broken sound in the back of his throat and bent down to kiss her, an almost cruel scrape of lips and teeth and tongue. Everything in Charlie turned to wet, hungry heat. It wasn't like with Jason – a quick rub of pleasure between worrying about raids and supplies and getting caught. The thought of Miles just shoved everything else out. Almost. She reached back, fumbling at the cool metal, and locked the door.

'Thought you weren't worried what people thought,' Miles said against her lips.

'I don't want to be interrupted.'

He bit her lip, hard enough to make her yelp, and pushed her away from him. She blinked at him dopily, trying to catch her breath, and he stroked his thumb over her cheek.

'Go sit down,' he told her.

She frowned, all itch and want under her skin. 'I don't want to-'

Miles eyes darkened. 'You started this Charlie, you begged for it.' He gave a minimalist shrug of his shoulder. 'Now do what you're told. Sit down.'

Charlie swallowed - she hadn't begged - and did as she was told, sinking down into a chair that was still warm from Miles' body. It still smelt like him. While she squirmed, Miles went over and poured himself another whiskey. The slosh of liquid made Charlie frown.

'That's hardly going to help your performance.'

His back was to her, but she could see the irritation in the way he rolled his head. 'Shut up, Charlie.'

'Just sayin',' she said. 'Three beers and Jason can't even get it up.'

He tossed back half the glass in one gulp and turned around, leaning back against the desk and staring at her. Her eyes flicked down to his crotch, the line of his cock pressing visibly against the denim. 

'So, what do you do then, Charlie? When Jason-' an faint edge laced the name, 'can't perform. Does he touch you?'

It was stupid to blush at that when she'd just been trying to stick a hand down her uncle's pants. This felt different though. She felt like she was on display. On display and not in control, all of a sudden.

'Sometimes,' she said, trying for worldly. Actually, most of the time he just got aggravated, they argued and he left to sulk.

'Does he eat you out?'

Charlie clenched her jaw till her teeth ached and glared at him, like sheer attitude would hide the heat in her cheeks. 'That's none of your business.'

'So no,' Miles said, palming himself through his jeans. He shifted his weight, spreading his thighs slightly. Charlie stared at the flex of his fingers, tendons working lazily over the back of his hand, and curled her bare toes against the floor. Her throat had gone dry and- 'Charlie!'

The whip crack order of her name snapped her gaze up to Miles' face. She'd missed what he'd been saying. It happened in the field sometimes, but there he never looked so darkly smug about it.

'I said, when Jason doesn't do the job, do you do it yourself?'

'Sometimes,' she said, the lift of her chin challenging him. '

'Show me.'


	2. Chapter 2

Charlie wasn't sure how this had gotten out of hand so quickly. She swallowed and licked her lips, voice cracking as she said,'What?'

'Take your pants off,' Miles said, taking a drink of whiskey. 'And show me how you get yourself off.'

The idea of it was somewhere between humiliating and arousing. It was Miles' smirk that did it though, like he thought she was going to chicken out. Charlie unbuttoned her jeans and shoved them down past her knees, tangling around her feet as she kicked them off. She hesitated, licking her lips, and then slid her hand down her stomach to the fine, sandy curls between her thighs. 

Just the skim of her callused fingertips over slick, already wet flesh sent a shudder jolting through her. She pressed her legs together, lean muscles in her thighs pulling tight, as she worked her fingers in familiar patterns. The welted brand on her wrist scraped the tender flesh of her thigh as she moved her hand.

'Spread your legs,' Miles told her. 

She took a ragged breath and glared at him. 'If you want to give directions, maybe you should lend a hand?'

He tilted the whiskey glass and squeezed his cock. 'Mine are full. Spread your legs, Charlie, I want to see how wet you are.'

Want pulled tight in her stomach and Charlie's knees twitched open before she really decided whether to play along or not. Just him talking about sex made her ache. She slid her fingers deeper, pushing them inside her as her thumb rubbed circles around her clitoris. Miles watched over his whiskey glass. He didn't look that interested, face cold and remote, but his eyes were hot and his hand was still moving over his cock.

Fine. His game, but she was the one getting off. Sprawled on his chair, his eyes on her. It was hotter than fucking, at least she knew how to do it right. She pressed her foot against the floor, lifting her knee, and cupped her breast, fingers pinching the pale bud of her nipple till it flushed and hardened. Charlie dropped her head back as she felt everything pulling tight. Her thumb scraped over the tight button of flesh and nerves, the raw shudder of pleasure starting a sigh from her.

Again and everything turned loose and warm and liquid inside her, orgasm rippling through her. Charlie went limp, breathing ragged and too fast, and fingers lying wet against her thighs. She lifted her head, giving Miles a challenging stare.

'Is that what you wanted.'

He put the tumbler down. It clinked against the wood, a small and weirdly dangerous sound. Or maybe it was Miles. The hard focus on his face was what he usually brought to a fight, not, she supposed, bed. If he did, she was surprised Nora left him alone long enough for him to plan anything.

'It's a start,' he said.

'Start?' Charlie said. Just him looking at her made her stomach tighten with awareness. She tried not to let that show as she leant back, elbows propped on the arms of the chair. She raised her eyebrows. 'I'm done. What do I need you for?'

He looked down, a smirk sliding over his mouth, and pushed himself off the desk. His jeans slid dangerously low around his hips as he walked over. 'Is that a challenge?'

Charlie felt breathlessly out of her depth. It was just sex, that was all, but Miles seemed to be running it like...like a campaign. Well, Charlie had never let on being daunted when she followed him into a fight, so damned if she would now. She smirked back and stretched her legs out, running her foot up the inside of his leg.

'If you have a hand,' she said. 'Maybe its time to show it.'

He leant on the arms of the chair, his weight making it creak, and kissed her. Their second kiss. It was better than the first: teeth and lips and tongue and _thoroughness._ It pushed her back against the padded headrest, a pleasant tension in her throat. He teased his way past her lips, the coax of his tongue stealing her breath. Charlie cupped his face, her thumb resting along his jaw and fingers sliding up into his hair.

When he finally broke the kiss, he was nearly as breathless as her. That was a relief. He turned his head to the side, her fingers trailing over the rough scruff of stubble, and pressed a hot kiss to her sex-sticky palm.

'Are you sure this is what you want?' he said. 'You can go, we'll not talk about it again. It will just be a ... weird night.'

Charlie traced his mouth with her thumb. 'You think this is the first time I came with your face in my head?'

Miles shuddered – a hard, bone-deep twitch – and kissed her again, a hard, bruising slash of his mouth. He crouched between her knees and grabbed her hips, tugging her forwards until her backside was barely balanced on the seat. His shoulders nudged her legs apart, stubble scraping her thighs as kissed the stretch of thin, pale skin.

It made Charlie squirm – heat jabbing up into her groin, discomfort curdling in her belly – to have him that close. Sex had always been five spare minutes – hiding from Dad, hiding from Danny, waiting to get dragged back on to the road or rousted for a fight – and it didn't leave much time for...toppings. She twisted her fingers in Miles' hair, dark and coarse against her fingers, as he nuzzled between her legs. His breath was hot against her wet flesh, nose bumping her clitoris and tongue pushing into her.

Charlie swore, hips jerking, and nearly yanked out a handful of his hair. The tickle of his breath when he laughed didn't help. His hands tightened, thumbs hooking over her flare of her hipbones, holding her still as his lips and tongue slid and sucked at already over-sensitised flesh. It felt too good, hanging by its fingertips over uncomfortable, and everything balled up hot and aching in the pit of his stomach.

He made her whimper, raw, desperate noises sliding between her lips as she dragged his head closer. 

'God, Miles,' she moaned, arching her hips up into his hands. 'Please? I can't-'

He lifted his head, lips shining and wet, and pressed a sticky, salty kiss to belly, dipping his tongue into her belly button.

'No complaints about my performance then?' 

'Not yet,' Charlie managed, although her front would have been more convincing if her voice hadn't cracked. Miles bit her, just over the hipbone, hard enough to make her yelp.

He kissed his way up over her ribs to her breast, sucking her nipple into his mouth. It was almost too much. Charlie whimpered again, past even being ashamed of how much she wanted him, and ran her hands down his back. Her fingers dug into the tough lines if muscle, short nails leaving crescent dents in his skin, as he let his teeth scrape agonisingly/ecstatically over her skin and his fingers pushed up into her.

That was too much. The second orgasm staggered her, leaving her trembling and her nails drawing blood from Miles' shoulder. Even if she'd wanted too, she didn't think she could have dragged enough words together to protest as he tugged her to her feet.

She swayed into him, legs maybe a little wobbly, and slid her hands down the back of his jeans to grab his ass. 'Now,' she said, trying to sound authoritative, 'you're going to fuck me.'

Miles nudged her chin up with his knuckle and dropped a salty kiss on her mouth. 'I have every intention of it, love.'

He pushed her back into the wall, the heat and weight of him pressed against her making Charlie swallow hard. His jeans were already hanging by an erection and a hipbone. It didn't take much to slide them down to his knees, and he kicked them off from there. One hand gripped her thigh, lifting her leg up to hook over his hip, and buried himself in her with one hard, jarring thrust.

Wet as she was, it kind of hurt. She winced, stretching up onto her tiptoes, at the ache of stretching around him. Miles swore raggedly against her neck, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck and knotting his fingers in her hair.

'Are you sure Jason's ever got it up?' he growled, holding very still even though she could feel the impatience twitching under his skin. 'Charlie, fuck, I have to-'

He thrust into her again, slamming her back into the wall. Charlie tensed, expecting another jab of pain, but the bulk of him inside her and the stuttering misfire of over-stimulated nerve-endings morphed into a hungry burn that had her teetering on the edge again. 

'God,' she gasped, eyes widening at the flux of sensation.

Miles laughed, a rough, dragged out sound. 'That's better then?'

She needed to say something smart and snarky, something that would make him laugh and look at her like an adult who knew what she wanted. Something someone who wasn't his naïve, tag-a-long niece would say. All she could manage was a wide-eyed, breathless nod, her tongue swiping over her lips. 'Uh huh.'

Miles shuddered again and kissed her, bumping her head back into the wall. 'Goddamnit it, Charlie,' he muttered against her lips. 'You've no idea what you do to me.'

He fucked her into the wall, hitching her leg up every few minutes to correct the angle of his thrust. His cock hitting something inside her that made her go boneless and gasping with pleasure. Charlie hung onto his shoulders, balanced on her toes, and kissed his throat and jaw, lips catching his whenever she could. Her heel dug into the back of his thigh, grinding the muscle, as she tried to drag him deeper.

He had to put hand over her mouth, stifling the noises she was making, and he watched intently as the pump of his cock jangled their hipbones together. She came just before him, body fluttering so tight around him it hurt again when he moved. He swore and pressed his head into her shoulder, mouth chewing words along her collarbone. Tomorrow she'd have love-marks when she was talking to the men, but ones that were carefully hidden. If she wanted? If he wanted?

Her speculation was interrupted as Miles pulled out, dragging her hand down and wrapping her fingers around his cock. Under the instruction of his fingers – faster, squeeze, stop – she jerked him off over her thighs. 'Charlie,' he said, his voice hitching and intent. 'Fuck, Charlie.'

He ran out breath and leant against her, his lips feathering kisses over her temples and his shoulder keeping her from sliding to the ground. His come was cooling on her thighs and Charlie thought about cleaning up, but she wasn't sure she could move.

'Everything you wanted?' Miles asked, head finding its way down to her shoulder and hand leaving her mouth. Charlie licked the taste of him off her lips and absently curled her fingers around the nape of his neck leaning, back against the wall. Sweat ran down her chest.

'Passable,' she said. It didn't sound worldly at all. Her voice was breathless and trembling when she tried to speak. 'I kind of thought I would be more in charge.'

Miles laughed and nuzzled her neck, wet, sloppy kisses that made her body think that even though it couldn't stand up its own, maybe... 'We can work on that.'

She grunted sceptically at that and he caught her arm, lifting it so he could press his lips to the brand. Monroe's brand, she always thought of it, but it was Miles too. He scraped his teeth over the hard cord of scar tissue gently.

'Tomorrow,' he said. 'And the day after that. Then we can work it out from there.'


End file.
